Hateship, Friendship, Loveship, Courtship
by danger.angel
Summary: Scenes from the stages of Angelina Johnson and Christopher Montague’s relationship. Complete


**Hateship, Friendship, Loveship, Courtship, Marriage**

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_**1. Hateship**_  
The first time Christopher Montague knocked Angelina Johnson off her broom, she landed in the infirmary with a dislocated shoulder. When the news got to her mother, she sent a howler, demanding Angelina quit the team lest she end up dead. Her mother had never been fond of the idea of her "baby girl" playing Quidditch. She thought Angelina much too delicate for the sport. If it hadn't been for her father, Angelina knew her mother would've forced McGonagall to take her off the team.

Afterwards, whenever Christopher saw her, he would smirk at her, his expression superior. He believed he'd won, beaten her somehow.

The next match they played, she was more than ready for him. When it was over, he had a black eye and was covered in bruises. She smiled wickedly as she watched him limp off the pitch.

The next day in Arithmancy, he smiled at her.

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_**2. Friendship**_  
Until seventh year, Christopher and Angelina had a grudging respect for each other. On and off the pitch they were evenly matched and always kept each other from believing the hype surrounding them. Their competition was a mite unhealthy, but it was theirs. Seventh year was all about changes so it was no wonder that their relationship went through a metamorphosis. It started when Christopher joined the Inquisitorial Squad. He still regarded Angelina as he always did, but she now saw him as she did the first time they met on the Quidditch pitch: as an obstacle towards a goal unknown to him. Whenever Angelina saw Christopher, she would look at him with such contempt that he would've recoiled if he hadn't yet perfected his façade of cold blankness.

Her hostility bothered him. There were many people Christopher liked, but few he respected. The expression on Angelina's face after the contemptuous look had gone was ingrained in his head. She looked betrayed. It was the same look most non-Slytherin students gave him nowadays, as if he'd run out on some agreement he'd made with them. He didn't understand it. He didn't think to ask about it until after he'd recovered from being pushed into the vanishing cabinet.

He met her as she was leaving the Quidditch pitch after a solitary fly. When she saw him, she rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. He caught her arm as she was about to pass him.

"Oi! Get your hands off me," she said, trying to shake him off.

He was larger and stronger. He held on tighter and pulled her towards him. "Your boyfriend and his brother nearly killed me," he said. It was not what he'd intended to say to her, but he'd wanted to say it for some time.

"Yeah. Too bad about the nearly, though. I would've much preferred it if they had."

Christopher clenched his jaw. "That would be one less Slytherin scum in the world, then."

She scoffed. "If only you were just Slytherin scum. Slytherin scum I could respect, but you I wouldn't piss on if you were on fire." She jerked her arm free.

"And why is that?"

She raised her brow. "You really want to know?"

"Why not?" He had nothing to lose now.

"Alright. You're an idiot. I thought Slytherins were supposed to be ambitious and cunning, not stupid arses. How could you side with her? How could you side against all of us? You let her come in and nearly destroy this place. I thought you guys were supposed to be all about keeping traditions alive—but maybe only when it suits you personally. I mean, it's one thing to be ambitious but it's another not to have any principles. None of us are going to forget this. We're not going to forget the detentions, the humiliations, none of it." Her fingers were clenched around her broom and her eyes were wild when she finished.

"You're right. What we did was bad form, but—"

"If you were to do it all again you'd make the same choices."

"Why not? It's always smarter to choose the side in power."

Angelina laughed. "And you actually thought Umbridge had power? She only had an illusion of it. She couldn't even control anything when it was all said and done. If you're going to be any good at this Slytherin thing you're going to have to learn to tell real power from smoke and mirrors."

"And what would you know about power?" He sneered, angry at her self-righteousness.

She smiled. "Do you know who my father is?" she asked, sounding more like Draco Malfoy that she had any right to.

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_**3. Loveship**_  
Friendships were odd things. They were born out of the strangest materials and went in the oddest directions. She had no intention of beginning a friendship when they'd spoken that day on the Quidditch pitch. She'd only meant to have her say and leave him feeling ashamed, guilty, and repentant. She had to settle for him acknowledging that she might be right. Might.

The next day they met each other on the pitch again. There was a moment of awkwardness that neither of them could understand. Finally, he asked about her prospects after finishing school. The conversation had gone surprisingly well. They talked until well after dark.

They continued to speak after school. They met regularly for tea, went to Quidditch games, and firecalled each other at odd hours of the night. It was him she went to when she had her heart broken repeatedly. He made her laugh when she wanted to cry or commit serious acts of violence.

She liked to think that it was her influence that stopped him from joining his former friends and becoming a Death Eater, but she knew that his family was quite adamant on the subject. She liked to fantasize about being a pivotal character in his life, the heroine who saved him. It was how she knew she was in love him. She wasn't as repelled by the idea as she thought she should've been.

When the war ended, Angelina was asleep on Christopher's settee. She'd been working for twenty-four hours straight at the Ministry's social service department. Since the war had begun there were many orphaned and abandoned children and too little families willing to take them in. An orphanage was being built but it wouldn't be finished anytime soon.

Christopher woke her with a smile and a mug of hot cocoa. "It's over," he said. "He's dead."

"Are you having me on?"

He shook his head, grinning.

Like everyone else in the neighbourhood, they went out into the streets to celebrate. They ended up at a nearby pub, drinking free pints and laughing as the crowd became drunk and the songs they sung became raunchier. It must've been the excitement and happiness in the air that caused her to kiss him right there in front of everyone. He was surprised, but he kissed her back.

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_**4. Courtship**_  
"Marry me."

He'd found the ring among the many heirlooms his grandmother had left him. "Things for his wife," she'd said him with a sly smile. The ring was made of white gold with a legacy setting. The onyx in the center was surrounded by small diamonds.

Angelina glanced at the ring and furrowed her brows. "No."

"No?" He was puzzled. How could she say no? They'd been in a relationship for four years now. Logically, marriage was the next step. He wanted to make their relationship official, plan a family. Was he wrong to believe she wanted the same thing?

"I love you," Angelina said. "I do want to marry you, but my answer's no."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes, it does," she said. That was the end of the conversation.

He asked her three more times. Each time she would look at the ring and refuse.

"What am I doing wrong?" Christopher asked his long-time friend, Miles Bletchley over dinner one afternoon. "She does love me and I think she does want to get married, so what's the problem?"

Miles shrugged. "She could be scared or maybe the ring isn't impressive enough. Everyone's talking about the seven karat monstrosity Malfoy gave Parkinson."

"Angelina doesn't care about that sort of thing. I thought she'd like the ring. It was my grandmother's."

Miles raised his brow, curious. "Your grandmother's, you say. What does it look like?"

Christopher took it from his pocket and handed it to Miles. He'd taken to carrying around the ring, believing that if he asked at the right time and the right place just maybe she'd say yes. He had no idea when that moment would be, so he had to be prepared.

"It's nice, but not the kind of ring you'd want to be giving Angelina. This thing comes from a different time. It signifies ownership. Generations ago, there used to be two kinds of marriages, equal and not so equal. When a couple came from the same sort of background, had the same status, they had an equal marriage. In the unequal marriage, it was usually the woman who had a lesser status. A man could afford to marry a woman like that but not vice versa. When a woman went into this marriage she was given a ring like this to remind her that her husband was lord over her and she had no right to question his decisions."

Christopher looked at the ring thoughtfully. To think such a small object would have such meanings and incriminations. "How do you know this?" he asked. "It looks like a normal ring to me."

"You didn't think it was a little unusual that a wedding ring would have an onyx as the center stone and not a diamond? Anything that doesn't look like it's supposed to usually has a hidden meaning. My great-grandmother used to have a ring like this. She threw it at my great-grandfather on his deathbed and cursed him six ways to hell, or so the story goes. My suggestion: get a new ring and see how that works."

**---**

For some odd reason, Angelina liked to dance around in her knickers while singing along loudly with the Wireless. Christopher never once complained. It was fodder for his fantasies while he was at work. Angelina was singing along with Stubby Boardman when he entered her flat. She greeted him with a kiss and went right on singing until the song was over. He applauded her and pulled her to him for a longer kiss.

"How come you're here? I thought we were going to meet at Katie's before we headed out to dinner."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Is it serious?"

He nodded, taking out the little blue box. A trip to Muggle London, a few converted galleons later and he'd found the perfect ring. It was a simple band with three diamonds embedded in it. The clerk had tried to turn him on to something fancier, but he'd refused. He knew what Angelina liked.

"God," she said breathlessly. "Wow. It's gorgeous."

"Is that a yes?"

"What do you think, you ass?" She slapped him on the arm.

He laughed as he put the ring on her finger.

She held her hand out, grinning. "I thought you were never going to figure it out. I was getting ready to ask you to marry me."

"Why didn't you? It would've saved us time."

"I wanted to be asked," she said sheepishly. "I've always dreamed about this moment. Didn't think I'd be knickers, though."

He laughed. God, how he loved this woman. "I'm sorry I didn't catch on earlier and I'm sorry about the ring. I never intended it that way."

"I know. I just want it to be clear what we mean to each other. I don't want the past hovering over us in any way."

He took her hand, kissing the ring. "I want that too."

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_**5. Marriage**_  
Married life suited Angelina well. Everyone had told her that many things would change once she and Christopher were married. They were right and they were wrong. They had to adjust to constantly being in each other's presence and to taking on new roles, but once that was sorted, it was as if their relationship had not changed but evolved. They still liked to race each other to the loo, groping each other as they fought to be the first one in the shower. They still went out to parties, pubs, and nightclubs. Their fights were still intense; the sex afterwards even more so.

Because married life suited her so well, Angelina was apprehensive about the baby. They'd yet to conceive, but they'd been talking about it for some time. It was a good a time as any. They both had secure jobs, they'd finished paying off on their home, and they were at a good age to start a family. A baby would mean they'd have to give up much of their independence, all their attention would be focused on this child. What would happen to their marriage, then?

"You're worried about something," Christopher said one night, as they lay together in bed, wrapped in each other's arms.

"If we have a baby I don't want to forget about us. I still want to go out. I still want to be with you, _alone_. I still want to have great sex."

Christopher laughed. "We will."

Angelina still felt uneasy. "I mean it. I want our child to walk in on us snogging, not fighting."

He smiled and held her tighter. "I promise I won't forget about us, that _we_ won't. It's always been about us at the core. That's not going to change with a baby."

"Or two"

"Or three."

"I draw the line there. An heir, a spare, and one extra, just in case."

"Well, then I guess that's settled."

"I guess it is," Angelina said, smiling. It could only get better from here.

**End.**

**A/N:** The title of this piece comes from Alice Munroe's book of short stories by the same name.

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